Wildheart
by MinganIsABeast
Summary: A tauren mercenary mistakenly wounds a night elf druidess while pursuing a dangerous bounty. What happens when he feels remorse for his actions? A story of two characters who embark on a journey together as they confront corruption, overcome challenges, and face self-discovery. Rated M for serious themes, violence, and sexual content (later).
1. Chapter 1 - Dust in the Wind

Wildheart Chapter 1 – "Dust in the Wind"

**Disclaimer: This story takes place during the timeline of "Burning Crusade" as far as setting and other story elements are concerned. It might be slightly AU as well, as I emphasize certain aspects of WoW while downplaying others in my writing. Please enjoy, reviews are greatly appreciated and flames will warm the winter hearth. World of Warcraft and all associated aspects belong to Blizzard. Chapter title inspiration stems from "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas, 1977.  
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* * *

Desolace. A barren wasteland cut off by a vast wall of jagged earth from its fertile neighbors, like a rough patch of dead grass that refuses to turn green amidst its surroundings. Its dusty roads rarely disturbed and for good reason, few have purpose in this forsaken land. Though these same lands were consumed by bloodshed and battles in the past, there were few conflicts along the eerie and quiet roads now, to the point where the sound of clashing weapons from the occasional centaur skirmish would echo through the winds undisturbed.

Slow, steady thumps drumming the ground, followed by the creaking noise of wooden wheels turning upon a rusty metal axle break the silence as a goblin merchant's caravan, headed by a few enormous kodo beasts, trudges through the road.

A little green denizen sits upon the wooden throne of his rickety cart like a depressed king who lacks desire, clutching the reins in one hand and cradling his slouching head in the other, his elbows resting lazily on his knees. He yawns sleepily; boredom easily sets in when the only view for miles was the somber landscape of dust and dirt speckled with rocks and bones.

Suddenly the pack beasts halt abruptly, kicking their hooves up and clamoring distressed groans.

Rubbing his eyes and blinking in surprise, the goblin raises his head, gripping the reins tighter and reaching over to snatch his home-made coach gun; a firearm with two iron barrels sawed down to the shortest length for use as an effective self-defense hand cannon.

The goblin glances around furiously, scrutinizing the horizon for trouble, snapping his head around just in time to glimpse a flash of fur flying towards him. A nightsaber panther, possessing an unnaturally dark hued coat, and black voids in place of normally glowing yellow eyes, sinks its razor-sharp claws into the goblin's abdomen, slashing through the thin layers of traveling clothes and green flesh with ease, a misty spray of red splattering onto the wood as nightsaber claws meet goblin entrails in a brutal evisceration.

The sound of the coach gun accidentally discharging into the air echoes with a din as the mortally wounded goblin squeezes his fists for a moment before releasing them.

The coach gun falls from his grasp as do the reins while startled kodos trample amok in opposite directions, fragments of metal and wooden splinters saturating the air as they demolish their bonds from the rickety wooden cart and charge off into the distance.

Once the dust settles, the enigmatic marauding nightsaber is nowhere to be seen. The goblin merchant lies in the debris, throwing his hand over his bleeding torso in pain and cursing furiously between gasps of breath.

As the dying merchant's perception fades, he hears the distinct clunk of plated hooves walking towards him. He glances upward, seeing a tall, muscular humanoid, with a stoic face of bovine features crowned by two curved bull horns and black fur; a tauren wearing a battle-scarred steel breastplate and tanned leather breeches towering over him.

The tauren holds up a piece of parchment in his right hand for the goblin to see, depicting a wanted poster. A forced grin crawls across the goblin's face as he spies the distinct insignia of a howling gray wolf upon the warrior's battle-standard displayed on his back. Mingan, the famed engineer-warrior-mercenary; it was rare that a tauren would work for goblin cartels; it was rarer that any achieved such fame and reputation.

"Time is money friend...and I'm pissed…you're wasting money here…instead of pursuing your mark." The goblin laughs weakly, slowly nodding, and closing his eyes, knowing that his attacker will be hunted down.

"Damned goblin greed…at least it pays well." Mingan mutters to himself as he shakes his head in amazement and walks off, following the faint tracks of bloody claws leading off into the distance as he crumples the parchment in his hand.

* * *

The fabric of the warrior's battle standard billows in the wind as Mingan continues to pursue his target.

Two swords of mysterious crystalline material are secured across his back, gleaming brightly despite the dull light provided by the overcast sun above.

One possesses a hilt of black metal with a unique blade that looked as if magma were flowing yet frozen in place, glowing with orange warmth and occasional small flames emanating from the blade's straight edge.

The second sword is just as odd as the first, composed of some strange turquoise alloy that gives off a chilling feel and what seems like small frozen breaths exhaling from the blade's curved edge, the most notable feature of this one being an upturned "claw" near the base of the blade meant for countering attacks or keeping blood on the sword from dripping down and making the hilt slippery in the heat of battle.

The cross section that secures both blades also mounts the handle of an extraordinary shield, a marvel between engineering and shield crafting; it consisted of two circular layers with a row of metallic "teeth" sticking out between the two layers. The front of the shield has numerous metal studs shaped like gears drilled into its surface.

Two more engineering marvels in the warrior's possession further surpass the shield's making.

Resting on his forehead, just over his eyes is a metallic black frame with straps wrapped around the bases of his horns. Several knobs and buttons jut out from the sides of the metallic frame which surrounds a pair of finely crafted metal tubes protruding out into two greenish-yellow lenses shining like gems.

On his right thigh is a holster that holds a large firearm crafted of the rare arcanite alloy with a complex structure different from the makings of firearms regularly found in Azeroth.

A thigh pack, an all purpose survival kit containing multiple items, is strapped on his left leg.

Further up, his belt holds many small pouches for quick access.

The most notable feature in Mingan's equipment is the metal gauntlet he wears on his left hand, custom fitted for a tauren's three large fingers, with a katar mounted on the wrist sporting three ornate blades encrusted with large green gems that occasionally give off sparks of the same color.

* * *

Ominously, the overcast horizon further darkens and the winds pick up rapidly, causing dirt on the ground blowing over and obscuring the claw marks. This would make it much more difficult to follow the trail, but an accurate estimate was still possible. There could only be so many night elf druids to be found in the desert after all.

The warrior raises his right hand to his head, sliding down the goggles over his eyes. He presses a button and sees a display; these goggles were an example of the many new inventions made possible through the recent campaign into Outland, a cross between mortal engineering, Draenei technology, and insidious demon devices. These goggles give him a tactical advantage, allowing sight into further distances, sensing temperature fluctuations caused by entities to enhance the detection of those with abilities of stealth or invisibility and enabling vision when the environment obscures it.

Suddenly, heat signals register on Mingan's vision about 30 yards away. Zooming in on his target, it was a humanoid with distinctly long elven ears, crouching down and doing something with the dirt. Mingan ponders, "A lone night elf out in this weather? Very suspicious. If that's the druid I'm looking for, all in a days work. If not, just another Alliance notch on my gun, like the old days in the Horde."

The sandstorm was growing in intensity; no one in their right mind would stay outside. Mingan reaches his left hand across into one of the belt pouches to pick up a small canister while his right hand draws the pistol from its holster. He loads the canister into the pistol; it was a round that ignites like a flare to light up the area while disorienting those in the explosion radius, a trick inspired by a hunter friend of his from long ago.

Carefully, he raises the pistol with his right hand, drawing a bead at the silhouette before pulling the trigger and turning his head away so that the flash wouldn't affect the display on his goggles. He rushes forward to try and intercept his target as the explosion clears; the disorient effect only had a short duration.

The visual display shows the silhouette of the elf standing and facing him, strong fluctuations of energy indicated by glowing lights around the elf's hands. In response, Mingan swiftly holsters the pistol and grabs the shield from behind his back, preparing to guard against a magic attack. It was a warrior trick developed based on the blood elf spellbreakers' tactics in the Third War; if a shield was thrust forward with just enough energy precisely at the right moment, there was a chance of deflecting harmful magic before its impact.

However, no projectile ever emits from the night elf's hands and bright light engulfs the visual display as he feels the air burn around him. The sandstorm seems to shift so it was blowing into him from all directions instead of just the front, obeying the whim of a spellcaster with the ability to control natural forces.

"Nature magic? Definitely a druid…" he deems, gritting his teeth through the pinprick sensations of the magical attack; it wasn't excruciatingly painful but it definitely slowed his advance.

The sandstorm briefly calms for a moment as the spell's assault ends and Mingan seizes this opportunity to leap into the air towards the direction of the elf. Quickly closing the distance, he pulls his left hand back in preparation to strike with the katar and flips the goggles back up with his right thumb before gripping the shield tightly. As he thrusts the katar forward to strike, he suddenly feels the left side of his body being dragged down. Glancing over, he sees his left hand and left leg wrapped in many dirt-covered vines sprung from the ground, nature itself obeyed a druid's behest.

Gazing back up, he briefly catches a glimpse of the elven druid's visage standing in front of him before a summoned insect swarm flies towards his face, obscuring his vision and hearing.

Mingan growls angrily, shoving his right hand forward as far as he can and clicks a hidden switch on the handle of his shield with his thumb. Several small bolts of lightning fly forth from the gear-shaped studs on the front of the shield as the surrounding air crackles with electricity for a moment.

The elf cries out in surprise, stunned by the attack as Mingan quips, "Deployable lightning shield…gets them every time."

Slowly opening his eyes, his vision still a bit hazy from the smoldering insects covering his face, Mingan draws his shield back, slicing the vines holding his left hand loose with the teeth-like edges of the shield that were spinning rapidly now.

Turning and slashing upwards with the katar, he hears a pained groan from the elf, followed shortly by the sound of a body crumpling to the ground.

Mingan secures the shield onto his back before shaking his head in annoyance and brushing the dead insects from his face. The vines that were binding his left leg have completely wilted away, between the barren environment of Desolace and the druid's focus broken by his attacks, there was nothing keeping them alive.

Looking down at the ground, Mingan is finally able to examine the night elf for the first time.

The unconscious Kal'dorei lies before him, her flowing silver tresses roughed up from the fight and dirtied from her fall to the ground. Her flawless skin has an orchid hue to it and oddly enough, unlike most night elves in the past Mingan had encountered, she lacks any facial tattoos. A simple green robe of woven linen covers her body from neck to feet. Despite the baggy garment, he could still see the outline of her shapely, exquisite curves framed by her svelte elven physique that put any other elf he ever met to shame. Part of her linen robe was torn by his attack, exposing the diagonal cut across her abdomen from just above her waist to right below her ribcage. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was enough to make her bleed profusely.

Realization hits Mingan as a blacksmith strikes metal at the right time. He ambushed her indiscriminately just as the marauding feral druid had ambushed the caravan. She might not even be his target, just someone unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something didn't sit right with him about just leaving her there to die as another forgotten casualty in the desert, even if Horde killing the Alliance wasn't necessarily frowned upon. Though his troubled past had caused him to develop a cold-hearted and gruff exterior, Mingan felt something he hadn't felt in some time: remorse.

"As I hold the power of death in my hands, so shall I hold the power of life…" He whispers aloud, reaching up to his neck, and removing a talisman. It was a brightly glowing sphere, which looked like the finest of pearls, linked to a thin silver chain; this was a magic artifact looted from a dragon's lair years ago known only as the "Lifegiving Gem" which had made the difference between life and death for him when situations seemed hopeless. It had the power of temporarily preventing one's soul from leaving the mortal coil and allowing just enough time for healing to be done as long as the wearer wasn't grievously wounded.

Carefully, he places the amulet around her neck as the gem's glow shifts into one of swirling light. Kneeling down and shaking his head in shame, he tears away the fabric of the robe around her abdomen.

In contrast to her face, she has various tattoos adorning her body but he didn't stop to examine them as he deftly wraps a bandage retrieved from his pack around her body, fully covering the wound.

Rummaging through one of his belt pouches, he retrieves a small glass vial of crimson liquid with an injector needle at the top of the bottle in place of a cork.

Gently but firmly, he jabs the needle into her outer thigh; it easily penetrates the material of the robe and her flesh as the concentrated healing potion is injected into her bloodstream.

Reaching below her leg, Mingan feels a faint pulse behind her knee and murmurs, "Don't die on me…I swear I'll make this up to you somehow."

He slides his arm all the way underneath her knees and his other arm behind her shoulders as he picks her up with ease and begins to run in the direction of Nijel's Point, the nearest Alliance town where he might be able to leave her in the care of a healer to fully recover.

* * *

As he approaches the town, the guards yell out in alarm, raising their weapons at him, many of them flanking him with their glaives held ready while others drew back their bows and aimed at him. They wouldn't dare attack while he was carrying the unconscious elf, but he hadn't thought about what would happen once he found a healer for her.

With the guards following him closely with their weapons, he finds a building with the large insignia of a red cross over its entrance. Mingan surmises, "Good thing someone had the insight to make a universal symbol for healing during the temporary truce of the Third War."

A mighty blow from his plated hoof smashes the flimsy door into splinters as Mingan barges in, cradling the unconscious night elf in his arms. He ignores the alarmed reactions of the various denizens inside, shoving past them in search of an empty bed where he could leave her.

As he maneuvers through the hallway, the town guards form a barricade at the doorway and post up at the windows; they don't want to bring the fight into the hospital, but they aren't going to let him leave either.

Mingan finally finds an empty bed behind a curtained corner at the very end of the hallway, carefully setting her down as he briefly watches the slow rise and fall of her bosom, the glowing talisman resting there.

For a moment, he contemplates taking it back to aid his escape back out of the town, but then his determination to allow her a chance at living gets the better of him.

"Don't let all this be for naught..." He mutters under his breath.

Swiftly turning around, he smirks at the guards surrounding the doorway with their weapons ready as he quickly grabs his shield in an agile motion. He didn't want to hurt the dumb bastards too badly, but he definitely wasn't going to surrender to them either.

His left hand still bare from removing the gauntlet-katar earlier, he switches hands on the shield, keeping it raised as he stands off against the guards.

Behind the shield, Mingan uses his right hand to open the chamber of his sidearm before reaching into his belt pouch to retrieve another one of the "concussive flare" rounds that he had used earlier and loading it into his weapon. In one rapid motion, he draws the pistol, fires it straight down the hallway towards the surrounded doorway, and holsters it again, before raising his shield to cover his eyes.

The few guards who react fast enough to the discharged firearm dive for cover while the rest are engulfed in the blinding bright light of the explosion. Though most of his foes temporarily lost their hearing from that attack, Mingan roars with a determined battle cry before charging towards the door, shield raised, ramming into the first line of confused guards and discharging the electrical field from his shield to keep the group stunned.

Raising up his right leg, he slams his hoof down into the ground causing small tremors around him that further disorient the rabble of guards; all of the tauren race learned how to utilize this blessing from the Earthmother during their growth.

Shoving them aside, he continues to run towards the exit of the town, as long as he could get far away enough, the guards wouldn't bother abandoning the town's safety just to pursue him.

A volley of arrows fall behind him or glance off the two crossed blades on his back, but a few still manage to strike him, the keen arrowheads puncturing the thinner joints of his armor around his arms.

As he distances himself far enough from the town that the guards cease fire, he feels woozy from blood loss caused by intense running with the open wounds and a nauseating sensation in his gut. "Poison…" Mingan grunts in pain as he stumbles off into the distance, his vision blurring.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes this story is resurrected from what it was several years ago and hopefully I'll write much more, much better, and finish it this time! Here's a shout out to some of the awesome people whose talented writing helped inspire my return:**

EisKrahe-SturmKrahe: My real life buddy (the hunter friend) and writer of Code Geass: Exorcising Demons, an excellent story if you enjoy that anime series, as well as Curious Encounters if you enjoy BlazBlue.

topearsXXVII: Another writer with an epic Code Geass fanfic Thank You Kallen, helps with previewing my work sometimes and holds me to a high standard!

Elly3981: A superb writer, whose Final Fantasy Tactics and Legend of Zelda fanfics were original inspirations for me to start writing years ago, also has heartwarming fanfics for Chrono Crusade and Code Geass; definitely check out Love of a Britannian Empress.

kazamaCEO: Another excellent writer who initially inspired me years ago and the original Maiev/Illidan shipper with some great WoW fanfics, unfortunately the best of them, Imprisonment, is no longer on here anymore.

EmbraceDiversity: I'm proud to say that Love Has Its Reasons is one of the fanfics that originally inspired me to start writing WoW fanfics years ago and helped influence my love of cross-faction pairings.

Nashra: Chosen by Shadow is a great WoW fanfic, I hope you come back and continue it soon!

AshadelMG: Amazing WoW fanfic writer with vivid, powerful descriptions. By Fang and Spell has some of the most unique OC's I've seen in a fanfic.

Iceworth: Writer of The Obsidian Dawn, definitely an epic as far as WoW fanfics go, should be a novel by itself!

Remir'wrath: Three great Ragnarok fanfics, Passion's Bitter End, Behind Guitar Strings, and Prince of Ravens.

PheonRen: When Orcs Cry Freedom will give you the feels, the WoW fanfics with her OC's and her Dragon Age fanfics are enjoyable reads as well!

Neural Misfit: Gravitation is another popular WoW fanfic and for good reason, I hope you continue it!


	2. Chapter 2 - Before the Dawn

Wildheart Chapter 2 – "Before the Dawn"

**Disclaimer: World of Warcraft and all associated aspects belong to Blizzard. Chapter title inspiration stems from "Before the Dawn" by Judas Priest, 1979.**

* * *

Large scavenger birds are the janitors of death in the wasteland, an ominous sign to the living about the mortality of their lives, a constant reminder of the fate in store for any who die in the desert.

Their senses are drawn towards the smell of blood and flesh, the sounds of conflict, and the sight of carnage; their instincts allow them to find those who have recently died or are on the verge of dying.

The raspy screech of a carrion bird soaring above resonates in the air as the distinctly cerulean feather of a Dread Swoop flutters down to the earth, landing in front of a figure collapsed prone on the ground.

Blinking wearily as his vision fixates on the brightly pale feather lying in front of him, Mingan slowly chuckles as he begins to hallucinate and reminisce, "This looks familiar…it's just like that incident a year ago…"

* * *

Mingan stumbles through the thick walls of smoke and fumes as he escapes the burning building located in the industrial district of Orgrimmar, the Valley of Honor.

Chaos ensues around him as confused Horde residents, merchants, and tradesmen flee for their lives. Vendors' stalls and peddlers' carts abandoned and destroyed as the crowd tramples through. In panic, the burning forges of smiths were left abandoned, the braziers that lit the streets knocked over, adding more fuel to the fire. Oil spills into the fishing lake located in the middle of the district, allowing the flames to extend into the murky waters and spreading where they should've stopped.

The inferno continues to grow, forcing evacuation of the entire Valley of Honor as the homes and livelihoods of many are destroyed in the short span of a single morning.

Help finally arrives in the form of shamans living on the other side of the city, calling the elemental spirits of wind, water, and earth to quell the fires before they could spread any further.

Circling around a figure collapsed prone on the ground, a mob of disgruntled denizens gathers at the gate between the Valley of Honor and the rest of the city. They chatter angrily amongst themselves, creating quite a commotion; the only thing preventing them from closing in is the circle of Orgrimmar Grunts that flank the fallen warrior. Even then, the armored city guards were having trouble preventing a riot from occurring.

An imposing orc of olive green skin, wearing armor forged of blackened metal plates bordered by dark red, pushes his way through the mob.

He makes his way towards the circle of orc guards as he shouts over the din of the masses for them to move out of the way and let him through.

The Orgrimmar Grunts stand at attention as the clamor of the crowd is reduced to a series of hushed whispers.

Finally, a voice in the crowd speaks up, "Overlord Runthak, we demand justice!" The commotion flares up again immediately.

"SILENCE! I am he that carries out the Warchief's commands without question. I am Horde." The armored orc booms with an authoritative voice that echoes through the city. "Before you get your ropes to lynch him as if he was some monster or traitorous dog…consider this, Mingan's accomplishments for the Horde have been positive. Justice will be served, but in a manner that does not shame the honor and glory of the Horde."

Overlord Runthak pauses for a moment, stroking the black hair of his braided beard before he continues addressing the denizens of Orgrimmar. "He will be allowed to live. But his rank within the Horde will be stripped. His estate and assets will be seized to cover the damages he has caused. And he shall be exiled from any Horde city until otherwise stated."

There is a low murmur amongst the crowd, but the majority nod in agreement. Satisfied with the results, most of them return to the extinguished ruins of the Valley of Honor to retrieve and scavenge what they can.

Moments later after the crowd has dispersed, the Grunts carry Mingan's unconscious form towards the outer gates of Orgrimmar. Several stares follow them, but none interfere.

"Wait!" A single cry breaks the somber quiet. A female blood elf whose flowing vermillion locks wave behind and her tall elfin ears twitch slightly as she chases after the procession of guards.

"You're not actually doing this?" Her voice is aghast as she stands in front of the procession, her svelte figure seeming so fragile in comparison to the taller and stronger orcs as they shove her aside with ease. She blinks away tears from her icy green glowing eyes as she brushes the dirt off the silken fabric of her intricately woven magic robes of fuchsia and violet.

The Orgrimmar Grunts drop the tauren warrior face down into the ground outside of Orgrimmar's exterior gate. The impact rouses him slightly as he slowly comprehends his situation. He hears voices yelling, a distressed yet siren-like voice arguing against a deep and harsh voice.

Recognition comes to mind as he identifies the first voice as that of his lover, Eldalin Sunmourn, and the other voice being that of an orc guard. Mingan's vision slowly comes into focus as he gazes at the sight before him, the guards closing the barricade to the outer gate of Orgrimmar as the elf dejectedly walks towards him.

A few tear droplets splash against his face as the elf crouches before him. "This is too much for me to handle. I'm leaving. Please don't try to find me." She places a fine golden ring encrusted with a lustrous blue sapphire on the ground in front of him. It was the wedding ring that he had given to her a month earlier. Just like that, she was gone.

* * *

Mingan stares at the blue feather lying on the ground in front of his face; it was like a déjà vu of that moment where he felt alone and helpless. The image frozen in his mind, the moment when the blue sapphire-encrusted ring lay in the dirt in front of him, discarded and unwanted.

Though it was only a few months, the time he spent with Eldalin, a fellow misfit soul with odd tendencies, was the time of his life.

The pain of the arrowheads penetrating his shoulders and biceps is nothing compared to the pain of his memories piercing his soul. For a moment he snaps out of the illusion, realizing that it wasn't just the physical feelings paling in comparison to the emotional feelings; the poison was probably numbing and paralyzing his body.

His gaze shifts away from the blue feather and towards his right hand. In his mind, he wills his body to wiggle his thumb, to ensure that his muscles had not gone numb and become paralyzed.

As his efforts prove to be futile, his glances towards the blue feather again and sighs, regret on his mind as the scene replays. He wishes he would've said something to her before she left; he wishes he would've prevented the tragedy in the first place that caused his exile and threw both of their lives into chaos.

* * *

"Don't let all this be for naught." Those words, spoken by a low, gruff voice echoed in her mind. Unbeknownst to the one who spoke them, the words were heard and understood.

The sound of a firearm discharging that followed, the sound of a booming battlecry, the sound of the town guard shouting in alarm, all of those sounds were mere ambient noise compared to the voice she heard as she regained consciousness.

Pale eyelashes flutter as orchid eyelids open and reveal a pair of silvery-blue eyes that emanate a soft white glow characteristic of night elf eyes. She blinks and stares for a moment at the dancing shadows on the ceiling caused by the flicker of the enchanted lantern mounted on the wall.

The "room" she woke up in consisted of a tall white curtain sectioning off the back corner of the hospital building. Besides the lantern mounted on the wall, the only other furnishings consisted of the simple bed, a shelf with various medical supplies, a wooden chair, and a bedside table. Atop the bedside table sits a folded white linen gown.

Her gaze travels down to her ample bosom, transfixed by the slowly fading glow of the spherical gem resting there at the base of a silver chain necklace.

As she inhales, she takes in the foreign scent of the necklace, a musky one that smelled of dirt, sweat, and blood, causing her to wrinkle her nose slightly. One of her long elven eyebrows raises up in question as she wonders where the trinket came from.

The sound of commotion outside her hospital curtain causes her large elven ears to twitch slightly; it seems that the town guard had just returned from chasing out an intruder. She suddenly realizes that the intruder is the same one who brought her here after attacking her, the same one who left her the odd necklace.

In all the chaos that followed, the overrun hospital could not spare any healers to look after her and her presence in the back corner was completely ignored.

As ironic as it seems, Mingan's efforts had been in vain. Not because she didn't receive healing, but because she didn't need it.

Most druids can wield some amount of healing magic. Priests and paladins heal through utilizing their faith in the holy light's power of creation. Shamans call upon the power of the elements to aid the injured. Druids heal by empowering the natural life force within an organism to overcome ailments that one normally would not be able to or ones that would take long periods of time to heal.

The healing magic this druidess possessed far surpassed that of most other druids.

If she had the ability to regenerate limbs, she would be a troll. If she had the ability to cheat death, she would be a necromancer.

Her body's innate regeneration of non-fatal wounds would make both a troll and necromancer envious.

This was different though. This was the first time in her life when someone else took care of her injuries. To add to her amazement, the one who cared for her was the same one who had attacked her. He risked his life coming into this town to bring her to safety.

She knew it from the way her green linen robe had been torn by hand. She knew it from the distinct smell of leather lingering on her bandage, indicating that it had come from a traveler's pack rather than a hospital shelf. She knew it from the small traces of black fur on the bed.

Despite the lack of pain or dizziness from her attack, however, something felt wrong. Sitting up from the bed, she deftly unravels the bandage around her waist and strips it away. Her toned midriff is completely exposed, as the lower portion of her torn robe was like a skirt wrapped around her waist while the upper portion covered from her neck to just under her bust.

A tattoo of a serpentine emerald dragon encircling her navel is the first of several markings that come into view.

The design inscribed on her lower back is one of vines twisting around roots, forming a curved line that traces across the small of her back, extending up her abdomen on both sides in unique designs.

On the left side of her abdomen, the roots grow into the form of a gnarled tree with an oddly feminine shape; the branches extending out and upwards and blooming with red flowers as they follow her side cleavage towards the under curve of her left breast.

Opposite to that, the vines crawl up her right side into an elegant, twisting ivy plant, the upper portion following the exquisite shape of her body, mirroring the other tattoo in shape.

She reaches down and shakily traces her finger across the long diagonal scar from the lower right portion of her abdomen to the upper left. Biting her lip, she realizes the source of her suspicion. Normally any of her wounds would heal without leaving scars; it was part of her blessing.

Standing up from the bed, she seizes the white linen gown from the bedside table, quickly throwing it over her head, letting the open neck of it engulf and cover her waist-length silver hair.

There was a reason her linen robe had long sleeves and covered from neck to feet before it was torn; she was very self-conscious of letting others see the markings on her body.

Besides, it would be much easier to sneak away from the hospital if she weren't recognizable by the torn green robes.

Pushing open the window, she cautiously extends her head out and glances side to side. She climbs out the ground floor window with ease and closes the shutters behind her. Sneaking towards the back of the hospital, she avoids the front entrance that surely would be crowded.

* * *

It takes her a few more minutes than using the direct route out of Nijel's Point, but she is able to avoid running into other denizens; most had retreated to the safety of their homes if they weren't at the hospital.

As she circles back around to the front of the town, she notices distinct hoof prints leading out of town and runs towards them; the soft leather moccasins she wears make no noise to attract attention.

Up close, she spies a faint trail of blood behind the hoof prints; it seems the intruder had been wounded during his escape. "All the easier to find him" she remarks as she removes the amulet from her neck and clutches the gem in her hand.

The hoof prints are deep, the stride distance between each one changing erratically, rather than a consistent pace from normal walking or running. "Walking like that, he can't be too far off" she considers.

With a sotto voice, she mutters a cantrip underneath her breath and waves her right hand behind her in a short, sweeping gesture, causing a glow of green light to briefly flash at her fingertips.

Vines much like the ones she summoned earlier break the surface of the ground, except this time instead of entangling anyone, they till the soil behind her before submerging back into the dirt.

This erases the hoof prints and blood stains from the ground, preventing anyone from following them once the chaos back in Nijel's Point settles.

Every step forward she takes results in another set of footprints being obscured behind her. She never cared for excess attention, especially since she considered the upcoming confrontation to be between her and the tauren only.

Her luscious purple lips open as she begins to hum a tune, her voice so sweet and rich that one might mistake her for a hallucination in the wasteland of Desolace; it is a voice that evokes images of a cool spring breeze whispering through a meadow of flowers.

The trek as she follows the trail is relatively uneventful. She occasionally glances up at the sky and notices a cerulean-feathered Dread Swoop soaring overhead in the same direction she is traveling.

A gentle smile crosses her face as the prone form of a familiar figure lying several yards away comes into view. Silently she mouths the words, "I found you."

She waves her right hand behind her again and the enchantment that followed in her footsteps ceases. Enough of the trail leading away from Nijel's Point had been covered that it would be impossible for someone to follow her and she wanted to have all her magical energy available.

As she continues walking forward with a briskly gait, she raises her hands up behind her head, brushing them through her lengthy hair and letting it spill back out behind her. Her long silvery tresses flow behind her as her shapely hips sway side to side in an alluring manner.

* * *

The enchantingly dulcet tone of a woman's singing voice rouses him into consciousness again. His eyes slowly open, trying to focus on the sight before him despite his blurred vision.

He peers at an eerily familiar character approaching him. He sees the visage of a beautiful night elf female; her flawless orchid skin unmarked by any facial tattoos.

With her glowing eyes, pale silvery locks of hair, and white robe, she looks like a ghost; "It seems like she has come to haunt me" he thinks to himself.

Mingan didn't believe it was possible for her to be standing before him alive; surely she must be an illusion caused by delirium or a vengeful apparition.

She sings to him with a mellifluous voice. In disbelief, he understands the words to the song; it was a song he often heard tauren druids humming in his youth. Somehow the fact that she was fluent in Taur-ahe, the language of the tauren, only seemed to be a minor detail at that very moment.

It wasn't a song he cared for much; growing up, he wasn't fond of the druids. "And what better way to haunt me than with that damn song? A lovely voice wasted on that tired old melody." Of course, he didn't say it out loud. At least the ghost didn't seem malicious. Then again, she may be trying to slowly torture him.

"I must be dreaming…" he mumbles as his eyes slowly close. Once again, she hears his words and understands them. The last thing he sees as his sight fades to black is the image of her purple lips pursing into a smile as she crouches over him.

* * *

**Author's Note: I definitely prefer this version over my initial work. The original, though it had some humorous moments, had way too many reveals, plot holes, and purposeful fourth-wall breaking. It went something along the lines of this…**

She wakes up in an inn surrounded by several Alliance denizens who start speaking at the same time.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Did that bastard hurt you!?"

"Did he rape you?!"

"Will you go out with me?"

"It's amazing that you survived that"

"LFG Maraudon!"

"Nice leather armor, are you a rogue?"

"Are we asking too many questions?"

Overwhelmed by the onslaught of noobish questions, the druid shadowmelds and disappears.

She jumps out a broken window from the second floor, same one Mingan jumped out of earlier (the original version had him doing that).

She suddenly has a flashback that explains her name and intentions in one paragraph followed by a vision of the Great Kodo Spirit (yes, it does exist in game) who tells her to seek out the one known as…

MINGAAANNN!

Also he somehow stumbles halfway across Desolace all the way to the Kodo Graveyard, trips forward on a bone and falls on his back.

**And that's the gist of my writing several years ago! Thanks for reading Chapter 2, look forward to the next, all commentary/reviews are welcome.**


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